


The Grimm Quest

by HeliumStar, YuunaFiction



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: "Obviously.", "WITCHCRAFT!", AU, Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Boromir is not amused, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Gandalf is amused, Gen, Harry is distrustful and wary, Hermione wants to help, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Romance, Sirius is alive but missing, Suspense, The fellowship have no idea what to make of the trio, Violence, ron is a good friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-06 00:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16377836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeliumStar/pseuds/HeliumStar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuunaFiction/pseuds/YuunaFiction
Summary: It wasn't so simple as stating that "All was well" upon the conclusion of the war. While some managed to return to a normal life without fear or lingering wounds and scars; both physical and otherwise; Harry, Hermione, and Ron were not one of them. Harry, plagued by constant nightmares and an ever-growing depression, channel his misery into researching the Veil underneath the Ministry as a way to cope and ease his guilt for causing Sirius death. It is there, through the help of Hermione, that they discover a great conspiracy.The Veil isn't a Gateway to the Land of the Dead... but to somewhere else entirely, and Sirius might not be as dead as they first believed.





	1. Godric's Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> Why, hello there!
> 
> YuunaFiction and HeliumStar at your service! Together, we bring you a story that the two of us have worked very hard to make (and will continue to work on until its completion). This story is the result of a university project in which we decided to write a Fanfiction together as a way of practicing engaging story-telling. 
> 
> Throughout this story, you will find several illustrations created by HeliumStar in an effort to enhance the experience and the feel of the story. Everything that occurs within this tale has been researched to the best of our abilities, developed to suit the world at large, and built with the intention of giving everything a logical reason as to why things are the way they are. We have taken creative freedoms (which is pretty unavoidable in a crossover) but have done it in such a way that it does not infringe on either franchise. Or so we hope. 
> 
> To avoid breaking immersion while reading, YuunaFiction is our primary writer. However, everything within the story is decided together. The same can be said for why HeliumStar is the primary illustrator (also because YuunaFiction's talent for drawing is as close to stick-figures as it gets. We'd rather spare you of that).
> 
> Additionally, we have Jezzkaa91 who acted (and still does) as our Beta. Without her, we would have been completely lost in the swamp of the English Language, as both YuunaFiction and HeliumStar are native Swedes. Despite this, it's possible we've missed something. If we have and you see anything strange, don't be afraid to point it out and we'll get straight to fixing it!
> 
> The update schedule for the story is sporadic since we won't upload the chapters until the text is thoroughly edited and illustrated (which can take a little while). However, we want to maintain a certain standard from start to finish, and therefore this is necessary.

  
          

 

Godric’s Hollow was a small town in the West Country of England. Not many people lived there, but those that did were part of a close-knitted community where everyone knew each other. Rarely did anything happen in Godric’s Hollow without the rest of the inhabitants hearing about it by the end of the week. It was a town in which nothing of interest ever seemed to happen. Unless one counted the terrible night of October 31st when Lily and James Potter met their premature death. It was a tragedy none could forget and rightly so, for Lily and James Potter were heroes. Heroes whose statues stood proudly at the center square of the village proper to celebrate their sacrifice and to honor their memory.  
  
However, the statue of Lily and James Potter also depicted their precious son; Harry Potter. The sole survivor of that terrible night so long ago.  
  
The people of Godric’s Hollow, despite the state of the Potter estate, refused to touch the remains in hope of one day turning the property over to the boy once he chose to return- if ever. The village, throughout history, had always been inhabited by someone from the Potter family. To cease such a long-standing tradition seemed almost sacrilege. Despite how young Harry Potter didn’t grow up in Godric’s Hollow, the people there never stopped thinking of it as the young boy’s home. At one point, it became a point of pride and honor to claim as such.  
  
On October the 31st in the year of 1999, Harry Potter moved into the wreckage of his parent’s old house. It was a good day if one asked the villagers. It was as if everything righted itself once more.  
  
However, the novelty of Harry Potter’s presence disappeared quite quickly.  
  
It didn’t take long to learn that the young man preferred the solitude of his own company in favor of sharing it with his fellow villagers and neighbors. Harry was a withdrawn and private man who didn’t initiate conversation with strangers if he could help it, nor did he appreciate when strangers stepped a little too close to his own person. The reaction was rarely pleasant.  
  
Yet, over time those strange reactions of his became more understandable to the villagers. Thoughtless outsiders could often be found congregating in front of Harry’s house. They also appeared to care very little that the privacy of their savior was continuously violated as a result. So it came to the surprise of no one when suddenly, one day, nobody knew where Harry Potter lived anymore. It was as if he’d disappeared overnight. As if everybody suddenly forgot where he lived. But the villagers were clever for they’d seen something quite similar many years ago.  
  
Harry Potter had placed his property under the Fidelius Charm to escape the overwhelming masses.  
  
The outcry from the newspapers only cemented the feeling of grim disgust as, once more, the Wizarding community saw it as their right to meddle and interfere in the life of Harry Potter.  
  
Soon, the attention that had previously been on Harry Potter turned towards the neighbors. Questions upon question were asked yet none were willing to say much of anything. The young Potter may have lived through a life of torment and hardship, but it would be over the ruin of Godric’s Hollow if the young man couldn’t find a semblance of peace in his own village. The thought of the imbeciles driving Harry Potter away from the town was enough to spur the villagers into a single-minded goal of protecting him.  
  
The result was a Department of Magical Law Enforcement that was flooded with complaints of harassment, trespassing, and stalking.  
  
With countless complaints and reports from the inhabitants of Godric’s Hollow, the DMLE soon issued a statement that discouraged anyone from entering the village unless they could prove, with sufficient proof, that they were legitimately visiting someone inside of the village.  
  
The masses disappeared, but Harry Potter didn’t leave his house any more than he had before. Before long, the villagers could only mourn the young man’s life and their inability to protect him.

* * *

  
  
Harry twisted and turned in his sleep, his skin clammy and pale from the cold-sweat that coated his restless body. He whimpered, desperately curling into a fetal position to make himself smaller- _safer,_ from his tormenting dreams. With a cry of panic he abruptly shot up from his bed, his breath labored and shuddering as he readjusted to the sudden collision with reality and the loss of gut-twisting fear he’d grown so familiar with during the nights.  
  
His hands trembled as he ran them through his damp and tangled hair. It was always the same nightmare. Again and again, it plagued him in the night. It wasn’t enough that he was reminded of the horrible night at the Department of Mysteries every time he entered the lobby at the Ministry, now the memory, regret, and overwhelming guilt from so many years ago had to follow him into his dreams as well.  
  
The look of surprise on Sirius' face as he fell through the Veil had grown twisted into a perversion of Harry’s memory. Now it was a look of anger and betrayal, of judgment and hatred. A reflection of how Harry had _killed_ Sirius by being _stupid_ and _thoughtless…_ and _young_ . It was one of those things he’d accepted he’d never forgive himself for. It was his fault no matter what others continued to try and convince him of.  
  
If he had a single regret in life, it would have been that _useless_ journey to the Department of Mysteries in his fifth year of Hogwarts. Had he not gone, Sirius would have _lived_ . Had he used his _head_ and called for Sirius using their two-way mirror, he could have seen with his own two eyes that Sirius was _fine_ and _safe_ . But he hadn’t, and hindsight only served to torment him more.  
  
He could still hear it; the whispers from the Veil. Their taunting of his loss and the promises of death if he stepped any closer. It made him wonder if Sirius soul was still in there. If he cursed him from beyond the Veil for getting him killed.  
  
With a shake of his head, he dispelled the thought like the curse it was. It wouldn’t do to spiral into such depressing thoughts. There was nothing he could do about the Veil unless he was prepared to leap through the damn thing to take a look for himself. The mere thought of such idiocy almost made him snort.  
  
However, it wasn’t the first time the idea had crossed his mind. Every single time he’d torn himself away from the same nightmare, the idea of leaping through the Veil turned just a bit more appealing. If not to find Sirius then to die and finally receive some relief from his tormenting memories of grief and pain.  
  
It served to remind him how miserable he was. How lost he felt in the world he’d sacrificed his life to save. He knew Ron and Hermione worried about him. They saw the growing pile on his desk from copied reports of the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. They noticed his growing obsession with the Archway and how he used it to distract himself from the life he’d been forced to live by no choice of his own. However, Hermione and Ron never commented on it. Instead, they would exchange a worried but knowing look with each other and then proceed to talk about their work as if everything was fine.  
  
Harry was impossibly grateful for it.  
  
Who knew where he’d be without his best friends?

* * *

  
  
  
Hermione rapped her knuckles on the door to Harry’s office, a small frown etched upon her face as she impatiently tapped her foot on the hardwood floor in the hallway of his house. In her hand she carried a file she’d gotten her hands on from the Unspeakable’s own archive in the bowl of the Ministry. Although she worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she’d never quite grown to respect authority like she once had. The result was a _small_ break-in and, of course, the copied file she’d smuggled out once she’d found what she’d been looking for.  
  
If anyone asked her about any unlawful activates in the recent week, she was fully prepared to use an Obliviate Charm- or blame that unsavory Amos Diggory who kept spouting nonsense about Harry at every opportunity he got. The tiny amount of guilt it would result in was well worth it and she was positively certain she’d be able to fall asleep quite nicely at night regardless of the outcome.  
  
Hermione let out an explosive sigh and opened the door after being ignored for the second time- tired of waiting for an invitation when she doubted Harry had even heard her in the first place. It made her wonder if that’s how immersed she’d been in her own books during her younger years. If so, she was glad to be rid of it. Seeing how unhealthy it was for Harry certainly put it into perspective.  
  
Upon seeing Harry bent over a large pile of papers and buried in-between large stacks of book, she could do nothing more than roll her eyes.  
  
Yes, Harry was definitely channeling his inner Hermione.

     

  
“Harry, I knocked on the door. Didn’t you hear?” She crossed her arms and gave her best friend a pointed look. Said friend didn’t so much as look up from his papers in acknowledgment of her presence. “Harry James Potter!” She admonished, not particularly appreciative of being ignored.  
  
Harry jumped in his chair, eyes blown wide as they landed on Hermione’s vexed form. “Hermione! What are you doing here? You startled me.”  
  
“I knocked on the door. _Twice_.” She stated dryly and found a sliver of satisfaction as Harry cringed. “You’d think your best friend would show some more appreciation after _his best friend_ broke the law by doing something idiotically Gryffindor to help him!”  
  
“Ron broke the law!?” Harry all but flew out of his chair. What had Ron gotten himself into this time?  
  
“No!” she snapped with irritation, “ _I’m_ fully capable of breaking the law all by myself, thank you very much!” Hermione informed tartly, rather offended by the insinuation that she couldn’t break the law unless Ron or Harry held her hand.  
  
“Okay, okay!” Harry raised his hands in a universal sign of peace before he slowly sank back onto his chair. “Start from the beginning,” he took a deep, _calming_ , breath, “What’s this about _breaking the law_ as an _official_ from the Department of Magical _Law_ Enforcement?”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at his pointed look, “ _Please_. Like you’re one to talk. Unless you break a law once a fortnight, you’re most likely sick or dying- probably both. Oh, don’t give me that look! You know I’m right.”  
  
Harry grimaced but reluctantly nodded, “Fine. But we’re not talking about me right now. Out of the three of us, you’re the one that’s law-abiding and _responsible_.” At her scoff, Harry grinned, “So, what did you do?” he inquired, not quite able to stop himself from smiling.  
  
Her bout of irritation vanished with the speed of a Golden Snitch as her eyes lost its hard edge and turned bright with excitement. “Oh, Harry! You’ll never guess what I found! Look here!” She placed the document in her hands on the wooden desk- her smile growing increasingly wider as Harry hesitantly opened the file. “You see, I was looking through all the reports of executions carried out by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and I noticed something really interesting- “  
  
“Of course you did.”  
  
“- and get this; the Veil stopped being used as an execution ground around the Second World War, but prior to that the Veil was a common alternative to the Dementor’s Kiss. They let the worst criminals travel to Azkaban to die there, but in some cases, the Judges offered mercy and allowed the execution to take place in the Death Chamber.”  
  
“Hermione,” Harry said gently, tiredly, “I know this already. I’ve read every single report I could get my hands on. I- “  
  
“I’m not finished!” Hermione growled, and Harry smartly closed his mouth and swallowed his words, “As I was saying before I was so _rudely interrupted_ ,” she glared pointedly, “In some cases, the sentence was carried out in the Death Chamber, so naturally I investigated the reports. At first, I didn’t find anything strange, until I noticed that the penmanship of the reports was _exactly the same_ in the section where the verdict is written.” Her smile returned, and she grinned as Harry’s intrigue visibly grew, “It made me wonder why that was. The logical explanation would be that the same person was in charge of writing it. But that’s not the case! In fact, during the course of the trials, only _three_ of them had the same Judge. Which means that _someone_ changed the wording _or_ the verdicts themselves after they were carried out. Of course, I searched through the entire archive to see if I could find something more about it- but I couldn’t. That left me at an impasse. There had to be _something!_ ”  
  
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as Hermione began radiating smugness, “Okay, what did you do?”  
  
“Why, I broke into the Unspeakable’s archive Chamber, of course.”  
  
There was a moment of silence, and then, “You _what!?_ ”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Oh come off it, Harry! I _did_ find what I was looking for.”  
  
Harry let out a tired sigh and turned his attention back to the document on his desk, “It looks the same. It- “  
  
“Does it?” She smirked, “Compare one of your reports to this one and look at the verdict.”  
  
Deciding to humor her, he did what he’d been told. At first, he couldn’t see any difference, but just as he was about to say so- the words died on his tongue and his brows narrowed into a thoughtful frown. The word ‘Execution’ had conveniently replaced the word ‘Banishment’ in every single report. “They went through all that extra work just to change the wording? That doesn’t make any sense…” He mumbled to himself.  
  
“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Hermione’s tone was gentle, soft. “Harry, ‘Execution’ means ‘Death’ but ‘Banishment’ is another word for ‘Exile’. I don’t think the Veil is a doorway to The Land of the Dead. I think it leads to somewhere else.”

 

* * *

  
  
“Harry.” Hermione silently closed the book in her hands and placed it on her lap. All around her there were papers and books, old documents and scripts of dimension travel, parallel dimensions and alternative worlds in all shapes and sizes. Most of it was for various theories of co-existing worlds but that wasn’t all there was. Other texts were of folktales and stories written for children.  
  
Personally, Hermione was more interested in the folktales. All myths and legends held a sliver of truth to them, after all. For the past week, she’d scoured the libraries across Britain for information regarding _anything_ relatable to the Veil and the topic of dimension traveling- only to come back with a disappointing amount of material  
  
There wasn’t a lot of information out there, and at this point, she’d begun playing with the idea of breaking into the Unspeakable’s archive once more to see if she could find anything on the  
subject. Unfortunately, the security after her first break-in had tightened considerably. Nobody had yet to track it back to her, so she wasn’t worried, but it certainly was bothersome.  
  
When Harry didn’t reply, Hermione repeated herself, “Harry.”  
  
This time Harry _did_ look up from his book, “What?”  
  
“It’s just… Ron’s been asking questions lately.” She shifted in her seat, seemingly uncomfortable with the topic, “I think we should tell him what we’re doing.” She hated lying and keeping him in  
the dark. They’d been through far too much together to keep secrets like this.  
  
Harry grimaced but said nothing as he looked down at his book again, but this time he wasn’t reading. If anything, he appeared to be deep in thought. “I know, but it’s _Ron_.” He said as if that was supposed to explain everything, “He’ll give one of two reactions; He’ll either blow a gasket and call us both mental, or he’ll try to help and whine for the entire duration of it. Besides,” He added with a hint of guilt, “If this works, ‘Mione, I’m not staying here any longer than I have to. I’m going after Sirius.”  
  
Hermione had always known that Sirius was the closest thing Harry had ever had to a real family, and after he’d died, Harry had never been quite the same. He wasn’t as prone to smiling, or quick to rush into decisions, and he most certainly never forgave himself for his ‘death’.  
  
Whether she wanted to or not, Harry was going to do this. With or without them.  
  
In the end, it all came down to if she was prepared to help him make sure he survived his most recent bout of crazy, or if she was going to leave him to it and watch as he left them behind- either as a corpse or as a memory.  
  
In truth, she wasn’t all that worried about Ron stopping Harry. In fact, she was far more worried he’d end up joining him instead. The reason for it was quite logical when one thought about it:  
  
The Burrow was no longer the same as it once was.  
  
After the war had come to its conclusion, it hadn’t taken long for George to start to conveniently ‘miss’ family dinners in favor of running his and Fred’s joke-shop. Percy preferred to use his work and his pregnant wife Penelope as an excuse to stay away from the heavy shroud of memories and forced merriment in his childhood home. His guilt for what he’d done during the war certainly played its part, and even if his family forgave him, it was another matter entirely to do so himself. Charlie was still in Romania where he grieved for his little brother in the only way he knew how; Dragons. Bill at the very least made an effort to come home as often as he could in a last ditch effort to hold the family together. Ginny spent her time alone in her room, waiting for Harry to return to her. And Ron… Ron moved out of the house as soon as he received employment at the Ministry.  
  
He blamed himself for Fred, for his inability to protect his family when it truly mattered. What did it matter if _only one_ of them died? The gaping wound Fred left behind was tearing the family apart, and no one seemed particularly interested in trying to hold everything together aside from Ron himself and on occasion; Bill.  
  
Hermione knew Ron was tired of fighting a battle he knew he couldn’t win without his family’s help and participation. He was tired of smiling and reassuring his family members of the bright future ahead of them when all he himself could see was the countless files of unsolved murder-cases and escaped Death Eaters on his desk. But most of all; he was tired of being stretched too thin and finding himself lacking as a consequence.  
  
Ron was better at hiding it, but he was just as miserable as Harry.  
  
And perhaps… _she_ wasn’t all that happy either.  
  
After finding and restoring the memories of her parents, their relationship took a severe turn for the worse. With their lingering resentment after having had their memories unknowingly stolen along with a deep-rooted sense of betrayal due to her deception, their relationship had gone from understandably overprotective and worried to painfully strained and distant.  
  
Her parents had always been hesitant and confused by her world. It was a strange place, and doubt and worry were only to be expected from parents who were forced to face such a situation with their only child. But once their memories returned, so did their expertly hidden fear and inability to understand and accept its differences. Only, it had grown because now they knew what she could do- _what could happen._  
  
The first time Hermione saw her mother flinch when she pulled out her wand, something inside of her had shattered. But, she also _understood_ , even if it was painful to do so. It was one of the rare moments in her life when she’d cursed her intelligence for showing her things she’d much rather been spared of.  
  
The war had cost her more than she’d initially thought; her parents trust… but she’d also made them afraid of her- even if that was never her intent.  
  
Hermione’s throat constricted when she closed her eyes to suppress a traitorous tear caused by the memories of their lives and the priced they’d paid for their survival. It was with a sharp stab of sadness and grief in her heart that she realized she’d already made her own decision whether she would join Harry or not.  
  
And it _hurt_.  
  
“I’ll talk to Ron. Tonight.” She took a shuddering breath as she did her very best to retake the reins of her spiraling thoughts and emotions. By the concerned and worried expression on Harry’s face, she didn’t do a very good job. “I’ll handle it. Please.” she whispered, _pleaded_.  
  
Hesitant but too concerned to deny her, Harry nodded slowly, “Alright… I’ll leave it to you.”

* * *

  
  
Hermione’s fingers trembled as she pushed open Ron’s kitchen door. She could tell he was inside because the smell of fire whiskey was especially strong there. “Ron?” she asked, unable to prevent a bit of worry from seeping into her voice despite her own tumultuous state.  
  
“‘N here.” Ron mumbled from the kitchen table- halfway through a bottle of amber liquid. His eyes drooped, seemingly unable to focus- or perhaps unwilling to. “‘Mione?” He asked quietly.  
  
“Oh, Ron…” Hermione used the back of her hands to wipe away the building tears as she stepped into the kitchen and dropped to her knees by his side. “What are you doing to yourself?”  She made to take his bottle away, but just as she did, he snatched it from her grip with such speed and force it left behind an echo of a time when Ron was hailed as an excellent Quidditch Keeper.  
  
Ron scowled, “Why do you _care?_ ” He snarled and rose to his feet- swaying as he did, “Last time I checked you were too busy keeping secrets with Harry to bother caring about _me_ and how _I’m_ doing!”  
  
Hermione rocked back as if slapped, shocked by his sharp and vicious words. But the shock was quickly pushed away and in turn, she summoned a force of anger and hurt, “How _dare_ you suggest that I don’t care about you!” She shouted, her voice growing louder with each word as the tears she’d previously wiped away returned with a vengeance. “Of course I care about you, you ungrateful prat! Why do you think I’m here!?”  
  
He’d always been tall, taller than most, and as he stepped closer to Hermione, she almost cowered from the combination of towering height and the burning anger and hurt in his blue eyes. She flinched. “Oh, I don’t know, to tell another lie!?” He hissed, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you lie to my face when I’ve asked you about Harry and what the two of you have been up to. No matter what you think about me, I’m NOT stupid!” To Hermione’s relief, Ron took a small step backward, “Am I that worthless to you? Don’t I mean anything anymore? Is it Harry and Hermione now, and not Harry, Ron, and Hermione?”  
  
“No! Ron, _no!_ ” she cried, promptly disregarded her previous bout of irrational discomfort in favor of stepping forward to wrap her arms around his waist, “That’s not it at all! I promise! Please, will you let me explain what’s going on? _Please?_ ”  
  
Ron fumed but refrained from talking. His jaw clenched painfully, but as Hermione’s warmth seeped into his skin, the weariness in his bones and muscles returned and caused him to slump against her instead. He was too exhausted to be angry. Too drained to exert the effort to hold onto something so fleeting. Not even half a bottle of fire whiskey could provide him with the energy or the kick he needed to function as he once remembered himself capable of.  
  
“...Alright.”  
  
“Let’s sit down somewhere?” She gently coaxed, and much to her own surprise, Ron practically sank to the floor the moment her words slipped past her lips. Her eyes widened, and then she was sitting on the floor, halfway onto his lap and awkwardly attached to his waist. “Ron!”  
  
“Tell me.” He all but demanded. Now that he didn’t have to summon so much energy to stay standing, it was easier to focus.  
  
Hermione bit her lip, frowning as she debated on where to begin her explanation. “We’re studying the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.” She decided to be blunt. Ron didn’t enjoy ‘beating around the bush’ and he was a fundamentally straightforward individual in general. “We’ve made some headway and we think we’ve got something.”  
  
“But why?” Ron’s confusion was obvious. For all he knew, it was nothing but a Gateway to the Land of the Dead. Why anyone would be interested in entering the Veil was beyond him. There were far easier ways to join the dead. A simple spell would do the trick.  
  
“In the beginning, I didn’t understand Harry’s obsession with the Veil either. I don’t think even _he_ understood it. If that makes any sense. He just sort of… focused on it. Like we focused on other things too…” She trailed off but she could tell Ron understood. Ron threw himself into work with a single-mindedness of hunting Death Eaters that practically consumed him, and Hermione focused on the S.P.E.W movement until she moved to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In the end, none of them were all that different in how they coped.  
  
“Right. So, what did you find?”  
  
“Oh, it’s absolutely fascinating!” A spark of the old and bubbly Hermione resurfaced, and Ron could do nothing more than smile wistfully at the sight she made. “We discovered a complete cover-up! Can you imagine? The Veil isn’t a Gateway to the Land of the Dead at all like we’ve been led to believe. We think it leads to somewhere else! Of course, we’ll have to research a lot more to be sure, but it’s looking more likely by the day!”  
  
Realization came to Ron so fast and so abruptly he felt as if he’d taken a bludger to the head. It was so bloody _obvious_ when he thought about it. “Sirius!” His eyes widened as he stared into Hermione’s shining ones, “He’s going to find Sirius, isn’t he?”  
  
Her expression hardened, and she gave a single firm nod, “He is.” She confirmed, but then added, “And as of today, I realized that so am I.”  
  
“What?” His brows scrunched up in confusion. “What does that mean?”  
  
“It means,” Hermione continued softly, “That I didn’t know if I was _willing_ to help him.” Seeing as Ron was about to go on a tirade befitting an angry terrier, Hermione quickly elaborated, “If the Veil is, in fact, a Gateway to _another_ realm and not to the Land of the Dead like we suspect, then why hasn’t anyone ever returned from it after being forced through?” She added sadly, “Ron, I don’t think anyone _can_ go back once they pass through it. I think it’s a one-way trip… and Harry is going through whether we like it or not… and I think I’m going too.”  
  
“Not without me, you’re not!” Ron puffed up, outraged at the mere _idea_ of being left behind. His face reddened as he summoned a verbal army to battle against the coming words that were meant to dissuade him. Only… Hermione said nothing. In fact, she smiled. A little regretfully, yes, but she _smiled_.  
  
Ron was a bit confused.  
  
“I’m glad,” She let out mixture between a chuckle and a sob, “I didn’t want to leave you behind. We, all of us, we belong together. Merlin knows we’re all hopeless without each other!”  
  
Ron felt a helpless and mirthless laugh bubble up from the pits of his stomach, “I hate it here.” He admitted as his voice cracked in tandem with his misery, “I hate it so much, ‘Mione. I don’t know what to do anymore.” He swallowed thickly and buried his face in the crook of her neck, “When can we go?”  
  
Hermione cried, “Soon.”

   

 

* * *

 

 

It was with an undercurrent of hope, excitement, and renewed energy that the trio sat gathered on the floor around a single notebook. Hermione was swirling a ballpoint pen between her fingers as she nervously looked between her two best friends. This was it. This was truly happening. All they needed to do now was decide on what to bring with them when they left.  
  
“Is this really necessary?” Harry asked dubiously as he eyed the notebook and the pen in Hermione’s hand. “I’ve already packed everything I’m bringing. Here, see, I made a list.” He said and placed a short list of items on the floor for everyone to read.  
  
Ron, after reading the short note, immediately saw the impending confrontation and used his hand to hide his amusement with a not-so-inconspicuous cough as Hermione practically sighed on queue.  
  
“ _Harry_ ,” Hermione chided with a disappointed shake of her head, “You can’t go with a single change of clothes and some food. That’s not _nearly_ enough! What about potions or books? Are you supposed to eat from the palm of your hand? _Honestly_.” She rolled her eyes so hard it looked borderline painful.  
  
“What! I don’t need much!” Harry defended indignantly, automatically seeking support from Ron…  only to receive none.  
  
Said redhead snorted and smirked, “Don’t look at me, mate. I also happen to agree with ‘Mione-”  
  
“Of course you do.” She piped in smugly.  
  
“ _-And_ I think we should approach this like a game of chess. Like setting the playing field.” He said, ignoring the interruption.  
  
That earned the undivided attention from both of his friends. Harry seemed a tad bit perplexed but when Ron had a plan it was stupid to ignore it. Mostly because they were oftentimes utterly _brilliant_. Hermione tilted her head to the side as she paid close attention. Organizing, preparing and thinking logically was her domain, but she didn’t have Ron’s ability to strategize and see the bigger picture as well as he could.  
  
“Well, think about it, yeah? We’re going somewhere that might not even _have_ magic. How’re we supposed to make potions and stuff if we can’t even find the ingredients? I say we stock up with the intention of never having to buy or run out of stuff ever again. I mean, Galleons, we’ve got droves of it! What are we supposed to use it for? You can’t melt Goblin gold. If we can’t use galleons over there, what are we supposed to do with it? Use it as book stops? Wouldn’t it be better if we used up all our money and bought material we can later sell on an open market or something? If we ask Neville, I’m sure he’ll point us to a bunch of herb traders. We could buy seeds and stuff and make sure we don’t run out. Dragon leather and those things we can just buy with gold, right? Same with creature ingredients, fabrics, spices, food, all kinds of things.” At this point, Harry and Hermione were looking at Ron as if though they’d never seen him before, “I say we use all the money we have in our vault and stock up like crazy. It’s not like we’ll ever use all of it. Together, we’re like, the _richest_ people in Britain.” He then turned thoughtful and shrugged, “Maybe we should get some creature eggs too or something? Hagrid might know some people.”  
  
There was a long moment of silence as Harry and Hermione digested what it was he’d just suggested. Then, stunned, Harry turned to his female friend who seemed to almost vibrate in her seat at the implications.  
  
“ _Ronald,_ that’s _brilliant!_ ” She all but shrieked and dove for the notebook, her ballpen practically leaving sparks in its wake. “I’m going to bring **everything!** ”  
  
Wisely, Harry and Ron etched away from the woman and left her to it.  
  


* * *

  
  
The trio quit their jobs. Unable to justify spending hours upon hours in dull office spaces, the three of them decided to resign and focus all their efforts on their plan to go through the Veil.  
  
However, they quickly realized they’d overlooked something when, the day after their resignation, their floo network went absolutely haywire: the public. The owl service was immediately shut down, but blocking the worried floo calls from friends and family were considerably harder to do. After a couple of easily told lies; _‘We want to try something new’_ , _‘We want to go traveling’_ , _‘We’re sick of fighting’_ the pressure eased off and they got back to work.  
  
Harry was in charge of magical creatures. He wasn’t sure what he could bring since he certainly didn’t know _how_ to bring a bunch of magical creatures through the Veil in the first place, but Hermione waved off his concerns and said something along the lines of _‘Oh, quit worrying, Harry. I’ve got it covered’._ So he shrugged off his many doubts and contacted Hagrid in hope of gathering a list of animals that were ‘essential’ if one day _‘all magical creatures were to disappear’_ .  
  
After thoroughly promising the weeping half-giant and reassuring him that _‘it’s only hypothetical, Hagrid! I promise!’_ Hagrid eventually calmed down enough to help him comprise a list of each species he’d need (according to Hagrid). Needless to say, the list was _long_ .  
  
It was with no small amount of amusement Harry brought the list to Hermione and off-handedly dropped a reference to Noah’s ark. The following look of contemplation that settled on her face made Harry blanch, and before she could order him to collect two of each animal in the world, he quickly retreated and stayed away for the better part of a week.  
  
Ron, on the other hand, was in charge of magical items and plants. Which included a lifetime supply of quidditch supplies and Wizarding Chess (he’d _insisted_ ). It was also to his own mounting dread that he came to the conclusion that he’d need to visit a library to research in order to make a proper list of things to buy.  
  
Thankfully, he had an easier time with the plants thanks to Neville. With an old friend who was convinced Ron was ready to retire and open the worlds biggest greenhouse, Neville gladly provided him with books and information to reach his many herbology contacts.  
  
That left Hermione who was in charge of… well, everything else. Food, clothes, potion ingredients, medicine, _books_ . Everything she could think of. She vowed to herself that her best friends nor herself would ever miss anything. Harry’s comment about Noah’s ark had struck a chord with her. For all they knew they were leaving for a whole new world, and perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to approach their plan with Noah in mind.  
  
However, as time passed, she came to progressively understand that their packing wasn’t going to end after a handful of weeks. Instead, judging by her most recent deadline, they were looking at something closer to a year and a half.  


* * *

  
  
Harry stood leaning against the front door of his house in Godric’s Hollow. He watched as Hermione and Ron packed the last few items into a large metal trunk of sixteen compartments. They each carried a magically expanded backpack, which in turn were filled with shrunken trunks that were filled to the bring with various things.  
  
“That’s everything.” Hermione finally declared and stood up and stretched her back. She smiled wistfully and looked around the empty house. They had already packed everything stored at her place and also everything from Ron’s. The only thing left to do was to hand over the key to the neighbor and head towards the Ministry of Magic. They would have to move underneath the invisibility cloak until they reached the Veil, and then they had to wait to make sure they were alone before repacking the cloak and then stepping through.  
  
In truth, it felt like it should be harder than it would be. It’s not like it was difficult for the three of them to break into the Ministry. Who knew how many times they’d done it before. Not to mention, they had helped design the security around the place. It stood to reason that they could find a way through it if they tried.  
  
“That’s it then?” Ron looked between the two, “Did you leave the box of letters at the owl service before you left the Alley earlier today?”  
  
Harry nodded, “I did. I told them to send them out tomorrow morning. We’ll be long gone by then.”  
  
Hermione bit the side of her lip. “No regrets then?” She asked hesitantly, “You’re both sure about this?”  
  
“Hermione,” Harry said gently, “We’ve been planning this for a year and a half. If any one of us had any doubts about doing this, then we would have acted on them a long time ago. We’re ready to go.”  
  
“Alright. I- I just want to make sure you both know what you’re doing.” There would be no going back once they stepped through the Veil.  
  
Ron grinned and placed an arm around her shoulders, “Don’t worry, ‘Mione. Everything’s going to work out. You’ll see.”  
  
After receiving a determined nod, Harry opened the front door and let his friends pass him by. With a final look around his childhood home, the house in which everything had changed and his fate sealed, Harry turn away and closed the door for the last time.  


* * *

  
  
Harry had never before reflected on the shape of the chamber in which the Veil was located. As he looked around himself and took in the dark bowl of the Ministry, Harry drew a somewhat startling parallel between the chamber and the ancient Colosseum in the heart of Rome. The Archway itself stood upon a large black platform of stone. The stone was weathered and old, and Harry suspected that the stone they stood upon was arguably the oldest he’d ever set foot on. It made him wonder if perhaps the Archway had always been there, and that the Ministry had simply been built around it. The design and layout of the chamber certainly made it plausible.  
  
His attention was drawn back to the Veil itself as Ron and Hermione repacked the invisibility cloak. The ancient stone Archway was littered with runes. He could decipher some of them, but the majority he could not. A lot of the knowledge about the Veil lay hidden behind those markings, he knew, and Harry suspected most of that knowledge had been lost with time. Many of the runes resembled nothing he’d ever seen before, and now that the threat of death was not hanging over his head like it had the last time he’d been in the chamber, he could finally appreciate the mysterious beauty of it.  
  
However, the whispers never ceased to unnerve him.  
  
Harry traced the whispers back to the grey curtain in the Archway. It moved ominously; like silk weaving through water and air.  
  
It seemed almost more terrifying now than the first time he’d seen it. He couldn’t say why he feared it, but he knew he did. There was something about the Veil that wasn’t natural. It held too much power to have been made by the hands of mortals, and that thought alone left Harry wary.  
  
Bad things happened to people who meddled with immortal beings and their business. The last time someone tried to best the undying, Death left behind the Deathly Hollows which in turn cursed all that yielded them. Though, perhaps that couldn’t be said about the cloak. It was, perhaps, the one heirloom that didn’t bring about unhappiness at every turn.  
  
Harry had, at first, been more than a little hesitant in returning to Hogwarts in hope of finding the Resurrection Stone. But something urged him to. The idea of leaving it in the hands of greedy and fickle wizards and witches left a sour aftertaste in his mouth. Therefore, he’d returned to the Forbidden Forest and collected it. Finding it had proven disturbingly easy as it remained in the same place he’d gathered his resolve to die. After picking it up, the stone had warmed to his touch, and Harry had quickly placed it in his pocket and proceeded to pretend it wasn’t there.  
  
The stone remembered him; acknowledged him, and Harry couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it meant something significant; something important. However, he didn’t want to think about the stone and the lingering temptation it caused as it sat innocently in his pocket. The knowledge that he could call upon the shades of his parents was overwhelming, and it plagued his mind with longing.  
  
The Elder wand, if even possible, made him even more wary. He distinctly remembered snapping the wand in half before throwing it into the chasm outside of the Hogwarts grounds.  
  
With the easy use of a broom, Harry had flown to the bottom of the steep drop, convinced he’d find the wand in the two pieces he’d left it. However, before he’d even reached the bottom he’d felt a strong, almost overwhelming _urge_ to land at a large boulder that had an uncanny resemblance to a giant turtle shell. Upon it, resting innocently upon the grey stone in all its horrifying glory, was the Elder wand; whole and without a single scratch.  
  
The wand had repaired itself.  
  
At that moment he’d considered leaving it but knowing that the wand had the power to repair their own wands if they ever broke, Harry had gingerly taken the Death Stick and strapped it to the left side of his forearm where he kept a spare wand-holster if anything happened to the one on his right.  
  
Harry was pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of shuffling feet. He set his gaze upon his two best friends; his _family_.  
  
“I didn’t realize how terrifying it must have been the first time we were here.” Hermione said softly as she glanced to Harry. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you back then. When you said you could hear voices coming through the Veil.”  
  
Ron frowned thoughtfully, “But if it’s not the Gateway to the Land of the Dead then why couldn’t we hear them back then?” he wondered as he trailed over the many strange runes with his blue eyes. “We just assumed we couldn’t because we’d never seen someone die, like with the Thestrals, but that doesn’t make much sense now. From all we’ve learned about it, this thing has _nothing_ to do with death.”  
  
“It’s strange.” Hermione agreed, “But perhaps we simply weren’t allowed to hear them. If you’d asked me to do this back in fifth year I would have had you emitted to St. Mungo’s.” she snorted.  
  
Harry glanced from Hermione to the Veil, “You mean only people proved worthy can hear them?”  
  
“It’s only a theory, Harry.” She shrugged lightly, “It might not mean anything. Besides, I’m only guessing.”  
  
The trio fell silent as an ominous air settled around them.  
  
“Well,” Ron eventually said as he hitched his backpack more comfortably onto his shoulders and back, “We’re not getting answers by standing around. You guys ready?” It was best to get it done as fast as possible. The more time they had to grow nervous the harder it would be. It was better to rip the bandage off in one go.  
  
Harry nodded and so did Hermione.  
  
“So, how do we do this, hold hands, tie us together with rope?”  
  
“No,” Hermione shook her head, “We don’t know what will happen in there. If we use rope, we might end up strangling ourselves by accident. Holding hands might not be enough to keep us from separating and using a sticky charm might have adverse effects on us if we use magic and it reacts badly.”  
  
“So, what do we do?”  
  
“We lock ourselves into a three-way hug.” She said firmly, “At worst we’ll break our arms if we fall on them, but it’s better than losing each other.”  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged a quick and worried glance before they moved closer to the edge of the Veil, and then proceeded to form a three-way embrace that locked them to each other.  
  
“Ready?” Harry asked softly, their bodies pressed firmly together. It made him feel surprisingly safe.  
  
“Ready.”

  

 

With that final word, the trio stepped through the Archway of Whispers and disappeared.  


* * *

 

Harry didn’t know what he’d expected from the darkness but _singing_ most certainly wasn’t it. All around him he could hear the now much clearer voices that appeared to sing a hymn he couldn’t understand.  
  
It was loud and overwhelming in its sheer intensity. It carried a might and wholeness that seemed to touch his very soul in a way nothing ever had. It resonated with him, responded to his magic and seemingly set him alight as it coursed through his body like a rushing river of undiluted and divine power.  
  
His hold on Hermione and Ron tightened as he held on for dear life, fearful of losing them when his muscles began to ache and scream in protest to the presence of- whatever _it_ was.  
  
The blood in his veins _burned_ \- threatening to melt him from within as the song reached into his flesh and touched all that he was.  
  
Just as he was about to cry out in agony, the painful invasion of his body and soul abruptly disappeared, leaving Harry with nothing more than a memory to serve as proof of his experience and pain.  
  
A feeling of peace and restfulness took its place and left Harry utterly perplexed in its wake.  
  
He could feel both Ron and Hermione tremble in his arms and he also felt when it stopped. Whatever had happened to him had also happened to them.  
  
The song fell silent.  
  
Before doubt could rear its ugly head, the familiar sensation of sliding down a slippery slope settled in their guts, like a rollercoaster dipping over the edge of a steep fall. They dropped, faster and faster until it was all they could do to hold onto each other and scream themselves hoarse.  
  
When they broke the sound barrier they were also met with light so bright it almost turned them blind. What came next was a less than graceful landing upon something sharp and hard.  
  
They came tumbling through a rock covered surface like ragdolls, cursing and shouting from the pain of strained limbs and bruises as they struggled to come to a stop.  
  
Once they did, they remained unmoving on the ground for a long while.  
  
The first to speak was Ron who managed to summarize their experience quite soundly, “ _Ow…_ ”


	2. Ost-in-Edhil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of the Golden Trio's search for Sirius Black. Just where will they end up once they pass through the Veil?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HeliumStar and YuunaFiction are back again and this time we bring you: Chapter 2! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry cradled his bandaged wrist close to his chest, wincing when he shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable in front of their hastily built campfire. Their arrival had been hard on all of them, and each sported a new set of bruises and bandages to prove it. Ron had twisted his ankle quite badly on landing, and Hermione had found herself lodged in-between two rocks and promptly dislocated her shoulder.  
  
It could have been worse though. They could have tumbled over the edge of the cliff they arrived on. It was a steep drop to the bottom and falling would have surely killed them and painted the rocky ground in red.

Harry shuddered at the mere thought of how lucky they’d been. ‘ _Then again’_ , he grimly mused as he looked around their small camp and the broken pillars of stone that stood hazardously around it, ‘ _the people whose city this used to belong to weren’t as lucky.'_

They planned on exploring more in the morning after getting some rest. Setting the camp had been challenging enough whilst injured, and after healing their wounds, they still needed a short while to allow the magic to settle before they could move more freely without fear of reopening them. However, the sun had set not long after they bandaged each other up, and had therefore agreed to save it until morning. It wasn't safe to move around injured whilst in the dark.  
  
Much less in a place that practically _reeked_ of dark magic.  
  
It had come as an unpleasant surprise. After getting over the initial shock and illation of being right about the Veil, an unsettling smog of dark magic had come crashing down on them and snatched up whatever happiness they’d had.    
  
Whatever had happened to the ruined city had been terrible. Something dark lingered and tainted the very air they breathed. They had no desire to stay longer than absolutely necessary, but it was also true that they had no idea where to go and lacked basic knowledge about the world itself. It was their hope that by exploring the city they might find some clues.  
  
Hermione was hopeful about finding information and Ron was optimistic as well, but Harry was less concerned about finding information and more so about getting the hell out of dodge.  
  
Neither of his friends had been exposed to dark magic in the same manner he had. He’d lived with a Horcrux in his head for sixteen years. He could feel the taint in a way nobody else could… and he didn’t like the magic he could feel around them. It wasn’t just unpleasant in the way Grimmauld Place had been but instead felt fundamentally _wrong._ Dark magic wasn’t evil in itself, but now Harry wasn’t so sure anymore, because it _felt_ evil. Ron and Hermione appeared to be able to shrug their discomfort off, but he couldn’t.  
  
Like oil, it weighed heavy on his shoulders, and although he knew it was impossible, the scar on his forehead ached. It was a phantom pain, he knew, but the feeling was so similar he couldn’t help but remember how it felt to be exposed to such unadulterated evil. It wasn’t something he was very keen on drawing parallels to.  
  
No, he didn’t want to stay in the ruined city longer than he had to. As such, whilst setting up camp, he’d insisted on setting wards heavy enough to make them utterly invisible to any and all that might cross their paths. He was quite certain he unnerved his friends with his paranoia, but he’d rather ward the camp enough to give Mad-Eye Moody’s paranoia a run for its money than to attract something unsavory in the night.  
  
His friends had rolled their eyes, but he could tell they took his caution to heart.  
  
Feeling moderately better about their situation after some food, the three of them eventually settled in to get some rest. Whilst still wary of their new environment and the dark magic that lingered, the exhaustion caused by their ordeal eventually caught up to them and quickly pulled them into a deep slumber.

* * *

 

  

“I don’t like this place,” Ron murmured as they passed yet another ruined stone wall with a pile of old and blackened bones below it. By its side, embedded in the wall, was a large black sword which had been crudely forged long ago. “Whatever happened here didn’t end well for these guys.” He motioned to the bones.  
  
Throughout their morning of exploration, they had come to a series of conclusions: The city had been destroyed in an invasion of some kind, and the sheer destructive force required to utterly ruin the city had to have been immense. The use of fire also appeared to have been popular- if the numerous ash-strained remains were anything to go by.  
  
There also appeared to be at least two different races in the world. One of them carried crude weapons and armor made from black metal, favored sharp edges and intimidating spikes. The metal also _oozed_ with dark magic that made their skin crawl. It was difficult to say what size they were. Humanoids, that much they were sure of, but it was hard to say how tall or how broad they were since the armor they found were both small _and_ frighteningly large.  
  
Either way, it spelled nothing good.  
  
On the other hand, they also found proof of another set of humanoids that, thankfully, seemed nothing like the Dark Ones. Their armor was beautiful, from the very little they could find of it, and masterfully crafted. Harry compared it to the work of Goblins, and if it hadn’t been shaped and large enough to fit a tall man, then they might have even gone out on a stretch and called it Goblin made.  
  
Where one set of people clearly dabbled with dark magic, the other did not. Quite the opposite, they found.  
  
There was a distinct _hum_ of light magic in the silvery metal. It wasn’t much, barely anything at all after having been exposed to such large amounts of dark magic for so long, but it gave them hope that whatever evil existed in their new world- it wasn’t everything there was.  
  
“I think we should leave,” Harry said and took a step back from yet another pile of dark armor, “I doubt they left a map laying around, and we’re not getting more information than we already have. I’d like to get away from the magic that festers here. It’s making me sick.”  
  
Ron nodded and stepped away from the wall where the black sword was embedded. “Agreed. This place is starting to get to me as well. ‘Mione?”  
  
“Alright, just…” She sighed and furrowed her brows in thoughtful concern, “let me go and pick up that sword we found earlier. I want to study the writing I saw on it. I might be able to find something about it in one of my books. Ron, bring that… _thing_.” She pointed at the black sword, “I want to study both of them when I get the time.”  
  
Hermione turned around and hurried away to find the pretty blade she’d found earlier that morning, leaving Harry and Ron to dislodge the dark sword from the wall on their own.  
  
Ron grimaced, and Harry quickly mirrored him.  
  
“Go on then.” Harry shooed him forward with one of his hands.  
  
Piqued, Ron crossed his arms and glared, “Why do _I_ have to pick it up!? Why don’t _you_ do it?”  
  
“She asked  _you_ , mate. Don’t blame me.” Harry backed away and grinned unrepentantly. “Go on, hurry up. I want to get out of here.”  
  
Grumbling obscenities, Ron turned towards the sword and shuddered, “Do… Do you have a tissue or something to hold it with?”

* * *

   
It took almost three hours to climb down from the old city proper. Having seen what sort of beings existed in their new world, none were too keen on attracting unwanted attention- therefore they begrudgingly realized that using their broomsticks or apparating would be exceptionally _stupid_. Apparating could draw the attention of whatever cast the dark magic for all they knew. Casting a Disillusionment Spell on a heavily spelled broomstick was just asking for trouble. At best it would blow up in their faces and kill them.  
  
Since none of them could fit under Harry invisibility cloak whilst on a broom, or use one of the freshly woven and spell heavy invisibility cloaks from the store without running the risk of causing interference with their broom, it was deemed safest to merely walk. To avoid detection while flying with a cloak, they would have needed to add a Sticky Charm and an Enlargement Charm to make it stick to them and also to hide them properly, but the additional set of spellwork was likely to cause the broom to act up and was, therefore, a rather  _terrible_ idea.  
  
To die because of something like that would have been terribly embarrassing.  
  
“So, which way are we going?” Ron asked once they reached the safety of the solid ground.  
  
“We need to follow the river,” Hermione repeated their earlier observations, “Human settlements are always near water of some kind. But I suppose we have a few to pick from.”  
  
They had spotted, before climbing down from the large city, that the river to the south forked into three different directions. One headed west whilst the other two moved east. It was a coin toss which one to pick.  
  
“Maybe you should take a look, Harry?” Ron suggested with a shrug. “You might spot something from up there.”  
  
It wasn’t a bad idea, Harry admitted to himself. With his Animagus form, he could make quick work of their decision. “Alright. Hold my bag for me? I don’t want to shift with that thing on me. Who knows what’ll happen.” With so many shrunken trunks in their expanded backpacks, the whole thing might just erupt like a volcano if it was squeezed through an Animagus transformation.  
  
Hermione promptly reached for his backpack and placed it on the grass-covered ground while Ron settled down on a nearby rock to wait.  
  
Harry took a moment to concentrate to make sure it was safe enough to transform. The wind was cool but refreshing, a perfect day for flying. It was also rather cloudy outside, and from the scent of ozone, with a high probability of rain. It would provide some cover.  
  
After finding nothing out of the ordinary with his magic, Harry allowed the transformation to take place. He was still a bit drained from passing through the Veil, but that could be said for all of them. Still, it was nothing life-threatening and a simple Animagus transformation shouldn’t cause any problems.  
  
Harry’s body quickly morphed; sprouting feathers, shrinking, growing a beak and losing his arms. In the place of a wizard was then a raven. A bird of sleek black feathers and startling green eyes sat perched upon a small stone on the ground. The transformation was successful yet again.  
  
Hermione crouched down before her friend. “Let me help you up.” She said and held out her arm. Taking flight from the ground was harder than from a position of height, _and_ she wasn’t beneath helping a friend to make his life a little easier.

Harry gingerly stepped onto her hand, mindful of his talons and the shift in his size.  
  
Carefully, Hermione stood back up and helped Harry into the air.  
  
With a some added momentum thanks to his friend, Harry was soon airborne. The freedom that came with flying was a welcomed one, and as he allowed the wind to carry him higher, he soon soared above the large city they’d just left behind. It was indeed large. From what he could tell, the three of them had explored nothing more than a small fraction of its size.  
  
Disregarding the ruin, for the time being, Harry turned his attention towards the vast grasslands that surrounded it. The greenery stretched far into the horizon and appeared to hold no noticeable settlements that he could see. There was some vegetation in various places; small areas with forest, but nothing large enough to provide a good amount of shelter. Perhaps the dark magic that lingered in the old city kept people away? Either way, it didn’t change anything.  
  
The rivers would have to be their guides for now.  
  
As he flew alongside the rivers, he noticed that after a few miles, the closest northernmost riverside slowly grew into a cliffside that continued the remaining way towards the mountains where it then melted into the rocky terrain. That was good, it meant they could take that path and still keep a lookout for people and settlements along the other side. If they found the need to cross the river, they could simply, and quickly, fly over with a broom since they’d be able to tell if anyone was close enough to see them and because the terrain provided adequate cover unlike the city that was too high up to shield them from view.

However, the further he flew, the more he could feel a small but increasingly persistent tinge of unease that drew his attention towards the south-east. He didn’t know what it was, but something dark lingered beyond the mountain range in that direction. Harry flew higher, as high as he dared in hope of getting a peak above the mountain and see if he could spot anything in the distance. What eventually met his sharp bird-eyes was a black and ominous cloud where the world appeared to bend at the horizon.  
  
Like a stormcloud that promised terrible disasters, it _blackened_ the entire sky.  
  
Harry could feel it, carried by the wind itself, how the darkness he saw was nothing but foul magic at its worst. It was thick as oil against his feathers.

He had absolutely _zero_ intentions of heading in that direction. _Ever_.  
  
As such, he quickly turned his attention elsewhere, pushing the sight out of his mind so he could refocus on his task lest he had a minor panic attack in the air and ended up falling to his death.

They didn’t need to head across the mountain range to find a friendly settlement, and therefore most directions were safe for now. However, with two rivers heading into the east, it was fairly certain they would come across a settlement sooner rather than later if they chose that path. The odds were higher, at least. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see any from where he was as the terrain was littered with rocks, but he wasn’t particularly worried… so long as they didn’t cross the blasted mountain.  
  
Momentarily satisfied, Harry turned around and headed back to his awaiting friends to report his findings.

* * *

   
Harry absently wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. The warm fabric of his black Acromantula cloak was pleasant against his damp skin. It wasn’t particularly cold, but the cool wind grew progressively harsher the further up the river they traveled. Hermione had speculated that perhaps the seasons were shifting, and that winter was upon them. If their new world even _had_ seasons.

So far nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The days were still twenty-four hours long, the sun rose in the east and set in the west, the nights were dark, filled with stars and adorned with a single moon.

Though, the constellations in the night sky _were_ different.

The three of them spent a great deal of time during the evenings trying to map the new stars. They had learned, through experience, that reading the stars were always helpful because it would never lead them astray. There wasn’t a better guide than the one that stayed unchanging above their heads. It was tedious work, but all three took great pleasure in exploring and learning all that they could whilst traveling.

 

Though, truth be told, there wasn’t much else _to do_. The only thing to look at was each other and occasionally a bird or two. Aside from that, the green and rocky landscape remained unchanged.

After the third day of travel a routine had formed: Ron made sure the tent was built on sturdy ground, Hermione oversaw their wards, and Harry started their campfire. Their tent, whilst big enough to serve as the sleeping quarters for little more than twice their numbers, only acted as their home when they slept or when they took shelter from unkind weather. They spent most of their free time outside and under the open sky.

It was currently day seven of their journey, and Harry had taken the opportunity to walk ahead while Ron and Hermione repacked their supplies after a short stop for lunch. They had walked since dawn, at a brisk pace, and only stopped a handful of times. With each day their restlessness grew since they continued to find nothing. Not even scouting as a raven did any good. He had found no sign of people.

He sighed to himself and looked back over his shoulder. He could see the ruined city in the far distance. Like a small dot, it taunted them and mocked their slow pace. But he knew that wasn’t true. The city was huge and sat at the very top of the cliff it was built on. The whole thing could have easily been mistaken for a mountain of its own from where it stood. Still, seeing it every single time he looked behind him was starting to annoy him. But he couldn’t ask either Ron or Hermione to walk faster. They were already traveling at a brisk pace and he couldn’t justify _running_.  

It was silly, he felt. He acted as if though something hunted them, and he knew that wasn’t true. He supposed old habits die hard. The last time either one of them had traveled on foot the way they did, they’d been running from Snatchers and Death Eaters while hunting Horcruxes.

Harry shuddered. No, he’d rather not think about that.

Seeing as Ron and Hermione had a small distance to walk until they caught up with him, Harry took a seat on a nearby rock, content with waiting for them to trek up the rocky and uneven countryside.

It was as he sat there, on his rock, that the wind suddenly turned.

A cold and vicious wind coming from atop the snow-covered mountains hit him head-on - causing him to quickly tighten the hold of his cloak in hope of saving some of the warmth it had previously given him, but the bone-biting temperature was quickly forgotten when an ungodly smell accompanied by the wind almost knocked him off his feet. Quickly, he covered his nose and mouth with his cloak in a desperate effort to stop the putrid smell from making him hurl where he sat.

He gagged, bending forward instinctively to shield himself from the tear-inducing smell as he pushed himself off the rock.

A series of curses erupted behind him, and Harry concluded that he wasn’t the only one who noticed the unpleasant surprise gifted by the wind.

It stank; like rotted flesh and feces. Like something old and unwashed and _dead._

Ron and Hermione ran the rest of the way to his side, each of them trying to cover their faces to the best of their abilities. Hermione had tears in her eyes, the smell so putrid it practically burned while Ron appeared a shade paler than normal.

“Bloody Hell!” Ron exclaimed, but the sound was muffled between the long sleeve of his black cloak and his hand. “It smells like something _died_ ** _!_ ** ”

“I think something _did_ die, Ron.” Hermione corrected and hurriedly reached for her wand. She spoke a muffled spell behind her hand. The next second a thin bubble appeared around her head. She then turned her wand towards her friends, said the incantation to the Bubble Head Charm and then swiftly pocketed it once more.

Harry took a deep breath. The smell wasn’t gone, but it was no longer biting and overwhelming thanks to the charm.

They took a moment to collect themselves.

“Let’s go.” He then said and grimaced as he glanced towards his friends, “If there’s something out here that’s capable of killing someone, then I’d rather know what it is than find out in person.”

“ _Great_.” Ron whined weakly as he began trudging after his friend, “A _week_ and we’re already looking for dead bodies.”

Hermione scowled, “That’s not funny, Ron!”

“It could have been us.” Harry commented wryly.

“Stop it!”

* * *

   
It took almost four hours before they reached whatever had caused the horrid smell. In-between two large sets of rocks they found a makeshift cave built by three large slabs of stone. It was the perfect place to take shelter during bad weather and had undoubtedly carried such a purpose as the cave was built by no means natural.

Inside of the small cave and towards the center, there was a small pit carved out from the stone bed to help with sustaining a fire from the elements.

However, none of those things held any importance to the trio.

Outside of the cave, laying hazardously across the entire site, they could identify what would have been three separate people. _Would_ , because more than one limb was displaced and it was hard to tell how many people they all belong to.

Warily, Harry moved closer as he covered his mouth and nose with his cloak, edging away from the black clothed, _dead_ being to his left whose face he couldn’t see from where he stood. He focused on the other two, much more sizable, yet smaller than should be, masses that lacked the disturbing _hum_ of dark magic that the Dark One had. From the looks of things, there’d been a gruesome battle in the campsite several days ago judging by the dried and darkened blood covering the ground and the scattered limbs. There were also pots and pans thrown around the site, a campfire that’d burned until all but ash remained, and then finally a set of unpacked backpacks sitting innocently and undisturbed inside of the cave itself.

A surprise attack.

But something was odd. The creature in black had a sword of a somewhat familiar medieval design embedded in its stomach, and such an injury would have killed someone instantly. Yet, the remaining two people, humans they must have been, appeared to have been… _butchered_. In fact, they looked to have been torn apart.

There had to have been more of the Dark Ones. One person couldn’t have done so much damage whilst mortally wounded.

Carefully, Harry crouched down and reached for a long strand of brown and matted hair belonging to one of the dead men and then gently brushed it aside. With a horrified gasp his blood turned to ice; Hidden beneath he found a pair of hollow, harrowing eye-sockets staring back at him. Harry retrieved his hand so quickly it almost blurred from sight. He pushed himself away, not wanting to be anywhere _near_ the torn corpse of what would have been a fully grown man had he been alive. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he realized something had _eaten_ them.

“…Harry!” Ron cried out as he himself stumbled backward, away from the black-clothed creature he’d hoped to identify.

Harry tore his eyes from the half-eaten man and towards his friend’s horrified expression. It was only then that he realized that Hermione stood with her back towards them, shoulder shaking, and unable to watch at all.

“Merlin’s _balls!_ W-what is that thing!?”

With shaky legs, Harry rushed to Ron’s side, his eyes followings his gaze until they landed on the most twisted and foul creature he’d ever seen in his life.

The creature had grey and sickly skin, red eyes and long pointed ears that stood awkwardly from its head. Its nose was thin and crooked, seemingly broken or unnaturally grown. However, the most disturbing feature was its ghastly mouth with its long sharp and yellow teeth.

The maw of a basilisk held more beauty than the foul gob of the evil creature before him.

Never mind its smell.

“I have no idea…” Harry shook his head. The idea that there was something _uglier_ than Voldemort himself was simply beyond his comprehension. How did one even go about making something so _twisted?_ Whatever the creature was, it didn’t feel _right_.

“ _Please._ ” Hermione pleaded. “Please, just take their backpacks and let’s _go!_ ” She muffled a sob behind her hand and effectively provided enough of a distraction for Ron and Harry to tear their eyes away.

It kicked them into action.

Ron quickly spun around and reached for the backpacks while Harry himself rushed over to Hermione, took her hand, and dragged her out of the camp.

Nobody said a word as they ran from the site.

* * *

 

 

As they set up camp that following evening, Hermione used everything short of the Fidelius Charm to ward their tent and camp. They didn’t watch the stars that night, nor did they build a fire outside. Instead, they sat inside, staring towards the opening of the tent as if though it was merely a matter of time before a horde of hideous creatures tore through its flaps.

They were scared.

Scared, confused, and utterly horrified of what they’d witnessed earlier that day and the implications it brought. It was a new level of evil that none of them could have predicted or even imagined. Whatever new world they’d found themselves in; it was crawling with darkness.

“Do you think he’s alive?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice all but flat.

“If anyone’s going to survive in a world like this, it’s Sirius.” Hermione said softly but confident, “He’s survived worse.”

Indeed, for Azkaban and its soul-sucking Dementors still held no equal. Demonic house-elves or not.

“I bet he’s napping on some beach somewhere.” Ron mused, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll find him.”

With a tired sigh, Harry leaned forward and dragged his fingers through his hair, “This is going to be hard.” He admitted grimly, “If what we saw back there is common in this world, then it’s only a matter of time before we’ll have to fight to defend ourselves in equal fashion. We can’t do that if we’re not willing to do it in earnest.”

“Mate, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I’d hesitate if one of those things came running. We might as well do it a favor by killing it. There’s no way that thing was normal.”

It was a horrible thing to say, but none of them had the heart to disagree.

It had taken Hermione a couple of hours to calm down, but once she had, her analytical mind had gone into overdrive. She’d noted a whole bunch of things from the encounter. For one, their first impression of the creature had been that it was inherently evil and dark, and upon further thought, Hermione theorized that they weren’t that far off. The creature _did_ feel twisted.

Twisted creatures weren’t born that way. Which meant that something had caused it.

With their extensive knowledge about the Dark Arts, the culprit was glaringly obvious: dark magic with intent.

Coupled with the knowledge that a land shrouded in darkness existed just south-east of the mountain range, that theory only seemed all the more likely.

The very land they walked on was sick, for no such amount of dark magic was natural in any shape or form. All the laws of magic stated as such. Magic in itself was neutral, which meant that _something_ or _someone_ had to purposefully _will_ it to twist things one way or another. Magic didn’t have a mind of its own, nor did it harbor morals or feelings unless the yielder crafted the needed circumstances required for it. Places like Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place gained a level of sentience through prolonged exposure from a certain type of people and _their_ magic.

Hogwarts was playful and filled with secrets and mysteries like the mind of the students that lived there. Their magic, throughout the ages, had settled inside of the very walls of the castle, giving it a semblance of life.  

Grimmauld Place, in turn, was dark and hostile because that’s what the people who lived there for a prolonged amount of time left behind with their magic. It was the Black family’s own magic that gradually shaped the house into what it later came to be.

In a way, magic was like a newborn child. Nobody was born evil or good but could turn either way depending on how the child was raised.

The problem in their new world was that someone had taken a whole lot of magic and power and twisted it into something beyond abhorrent- _knowingly_. To dabble a little with dark magic was one thing, but to allow it to grow and fester in the way that it had… it required _deliberate_ nourishing.

Something that required a being of _immense_ power.

_A Dark Lord._

_That_ wasn’t a comforting thought.

Aside from that, Hermione had also come to the conclusion that the world was fairly _‘medieval’_ if one was to judge by the swords and bows they had seen in- and around the campsite. The backpacks also held clues: Old-fashioned clothes and undergarments, practically medieval toiletries, an obvious lack of both plastic, glass and finely woven fabrics, but also a lack of currency.

As such, the only comfort they could find at present time was the knowledge that there _were_ more than demonic house-elves running around… even if their best line of defense was made up of swords and arrows against homicidal and cannibalistic creatures twisted by dark magic that followed, potentially, an even _worse_ Dark Lord than Voldemort.

All in all, the future looked shockingly bleak.

* * *

   
Two days later their convictions were put to the test.

The first thing that told them that something was wrong was the disturbing lack of sound around them. Nature normally wasn’t quiet even on a good day, but when it was, it was usually because a predator was close by.  
  
Insects ceased their movements, fell silent, and watched from the shadows as they awaited whatever headed their way. Any birds left, the wind turned ominous, and the feeling of impending doom hung above their heads like a sword ready to fall.

That’s when the howls came.

Terrified, the trio pressed their backs against each other, unwilling to leave either side of them open for a possible attack.

They drew their wands, and Harry, upon a mere moment’s hesitation, yielded the Sword of Gryffindor.

_Just in case._

“If either of you dies I’ll raise you from the dead and kill you myself!” Hermione warned a tad bit hysterically as her hands trembled with adrenaline and fear of what headed their way.

“Nobody is dying.” Ron vowed while he mustered a fierce scowl, “And even if I do, Harry will stop you from doing anything stupid. I don’t fancy being a scrawny Inferi. I’m sure Harry would look way better as an undead anyway.”

“Hey!”

They didn’t have time to continue their banter, because from behind a hill in the distance, a large pack of beasts suddenly appeared- running, as if though the Devil himself were on their heels. 

 

To Harry, it felt like the world slowed to a stop against the incoming chaos of sound and movements. He could see, that on top of the large… hyenas?... there sat demonic house-elves, for a lack of a better description. They carried a hazards worth of black armor, vicious and crude weaponry, and a manic look in their eyes that promised nothing but murder and madness. They were loud, shouting, howling and cackling from above their mounts as they raced towards them.  
  
He raised his wand long before they got close enough for contact, “Sectumsempra!” He shouted, and then there was one less enemy before them. The spell had cut into the creatures mount and severed part of its jaw from its head.  
  
A cry of, “Bombarda!” from Ron sent the rest of its head flying into smithereens and silenced its horrendous shriek of pain in less than a second.  
  
Harry felt his own heart thunder in his ears as he sent another curse towards the beast closest to them. They had yet to reach them, but they were closing fast- all eight of them.  
  
His second “Sectumsempra!” struck true, and the force he’d used cleaved right through both beast and creature simultaneously.  
  
Hermione drew a circle of fire around them, hoping it would force the monsters to keep away from them and also to keep themselves safely out of their reach. To her relief, they _did_ stay outside of the circle, but not for long. However, it was enough time for both Harry and Ron to strike down yet another three monsters and their mounts.  
  
“Incendio!” Hermione shouted as a wisp of fire shot from her wand and set alight another beast and creature in one fell swoop.    
  
There were three left, but the fire no longer kept the monsters away, and all three of them had to apparate away to gain some distance lest they wanted to end up in their jaws. They didn’t appear very far from their original position, a few yards at best, but it was enough to cast spells once more and still retain accuracy.  
  
After the monsters quickly regrouped after Ron, Hermione’s, and Harry’s shocking disappearance, they opt to reach for a set of crossbows in hope of killing them with poisoned arrows instead of trying to get closer. So far that tactic wasn’t working for them. Therefore, it was time to change it up.  
  
It was reflex, nothing more, that made Harry cast, “Protego!” just as an arrow aimed for his heart was about to strike him down. It didn’t, though, instead it bounced off as easily as a weakly thrown stick.  
  
A pregnant pause descended upon the group as the arrow fell to the ground with a dull ‘thud’- each of them shocked by this new and startling discovery.  
  
Then it broke, and Ron, Hermione, and Harry began to throw spells with renewed vigor, all pretenses lost as they attacked with a single-minded focus that tore through their enemies within a handful of seconds.  
  
In the end, the pack of monster died without landing as much as a scratch on any of them. The monsters looked terrifying, for certain, not to mention their bloodthirsty urge to maim and kill, but they were also horribly slow in comparison to a witch and a wizard who could apparate from one side of a plain to another in the blink of an eye.  
  
Perhaps, in hand to hand combat, they would have lost. But from a distance and against beings who weren’t capable of shielding themselves from magic… Well, it wasn’t much of a challenge, really.  
  
“I think I need to sit down for a moment.” Hermione said faintly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting hairy for the trio. *wiggle eyebrows* 
> 
> We hope you're enjoying the story so far!
> 
> Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! We hope you enjoyed the story so far! Both of us are very curious about your thoughts and would love to read what you think about the story so far. 
> 
> Many thanks, and until next time! <3


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